


An Old Man’s Midsummer Dream

by SakkaWordsmith



Series: Lupin V [3]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Broken Promises, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakkaWordsmith/pseuds/SakkaWordsmith
Summary: There is nothing further to one’s reach in life than their own dreams. Around this region in Saitama lives an old man who has been chasing after an elusive dream all his life, and has missed the enjoyment life gives because of it. The old man has long given up said that pursuit, and has retreated to this little cottage where he spent his many years silently fading into history’s dust, caring about everything else no longer.However, his estranged daughter suddenly comes to visit him today, and behind her forgiveness, miracle follows.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Zenigata Kouichi & Zenigata Toshiko
Series: Lupin V [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782925
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. The Old Man and His Field

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentDeathblade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentDeathblade/gifts), [NinjaSalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSalad/gifts), [Tulip_Blossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulip_Blossom/gifts).



> Series and world-building concept belong to Raspberry Milkshake.  
> Painstakingly crafted everything else in by yours truly.

One summery day, Toshiko takes a few days off work to unwind and avoid the headaches being sandwiched between constant supervision from the superiors and how to discreetly let Lupin V go should she be able to catch him. It is the first holiday she has had in years, ever since the Résistance Internationale surfaced as the greatest obstacle of the ruling class in their ambition of world domination. It’s best that the brat stays home today, she doesn’t want to be summoned back right in the middle of holidays. Using the days off, she travels to the countryside, to visit a certain cottage in the rural Saitama, where a certain man has been tending his modest field of lupine since who knows how long.

It has just been dawn when she arrives, but the old man has already gotten up and out in the field. He is so tranced in his work it takes a few shouts for him to realise she is here.

“Otousan, I am home!”, her voice seems more joyful than usual.

“To...shiko!”, the old man turns over, almost tearing up at the sight of his beloved yet distant daughter who used to be loathing him. It is rare to see her calling him with such joy in her voice, in the past at least.

Even though she never brings her heart to admit it, Toshiko has long forgiven her father, for the most part. Living the same life he used to live many years ago leads her to cruel insights. She is now absent from the lonely life of her father for the same reasons he was absent from her childhood, she today is simply no better than her father yesterday.

“Otousan, I am staying with you for a few days. And hopefully that little rat will leave me alone, not heisting anything in those few days I’m not in the city...”, says Toshiko, rolling up the legs of her trousers and stepping in the field to help her father pulling the weeds.

“What is this ‘little rat’ whose case you’re in charge of? Is this one of the Resi-inter-something folks causing much ruckus lately?”, the old man curiously asks out of habits. Decades may have passed yet seemingly he has never forgotten he used to be a police inspector, solving cases up and down and arresting criminals left and right. Alas, it is the past. He has long since retired under pressure, influence and order of the ruling class and retreated to this idyllic countryside to tend his little lupine field. Alas, he is now nothing more than an old peasant, yet with a past more interesting than most old peasants.

“A little thieving rat calling himself Lupin Gosei. He has his merry little band of two companions, stealing millions and billions from the bosses as if taking away lollies from a child.” A faint smile unconsciously blooms on Toshiko’s tired lips, as though she is fond of telling stories about the young thief.

“LUPIN? LUPIN! He’s not dead isn’t he? LUPIN! I’ll arrest you even if I have to waddle through nine hells!”, the old man instinctively exclaims, brandishing his weeding shovel as though a pair of handcuffs, remnants of his long-gone career, his pride.

“Otousan, it’s Lupin _Gosei_ , not _Sansei_ ”, Toshiko chuckles lightly at her father briefly returning to his old self.

“Eh, _Gosei_ , eh? Then...”, the old man slumps down the lupine bushes in mild disappointment, “Then... what about... _him_? You are a police inspector, you know the circumstances, right? Toshiko? Can you... share with your father?”

“No-one knows the circumstances, Tottsan, not even the police inspectors...” It takes her a few seconds to realise what she’s just uttered. “No, I mean, _Otousan_ , I don’t have access to the files!”

The old man freezes in his place, eyes absentmindedly fixating on a lupine bud as his ears catches the word “Tottsan” once again.

The weeding work is done at roughly noon, and Toshiko follows her father into his humble abode for lunch. Even in these technologically advanced days, the old man still lives austerely like he used to live his youth many years prior. Toshiko helps him rinse and cook the rice, while he goes preparing the main and side dishes. The neighbourhood kids who are away from school in these months all come to gather at the cottage’s door and windows to have a look at the old man’s rarely-seen guest.

“Zeni-occhan, is your sister visiting?”, one of the kids curiously chirps.

“I have guests today, there ain’t any more spare lunches for you! Run along and take care not to step on my field _again_ , kids!”, chides the old man while cleaning the mackerels.

“Then can we have the pickled beans?”

“They’re not done.”

“Why are you always eating pickled beans, Zeni-occhan? Don’t you ever grow sick of it?”

“None of you little jackanapes’ business.”

In the middle of the juvenile chaos, a young man comes and shoos the horde of kids away from the cottage so the old man and his daughter (who just happens to somehow look close enough in age to be his sister) can have a peaceful lunch. He remains at the door even when the children have all gone, patiently waiting for the family to finish their lunch before knocking.

The lunch is simple: grilled mackerel on rice, with a side of pickled lupine beans. Apparently it’s the only side dish available in every one of his daily meals. When Toshiko repeats the kids’ question out of curiosity, he replies with an honest “yes”. He isn’t too fond of these beans, yet he still eats them everyday for decades.

Once the meal is finished, Toshiko collects the dishes for washing while her father welcomes the new guest, who has thankfully driven the annoying little rascals away. She halts whatever she was doing as the young man enters. She recognises him quite too well. A young samurai in a simple grey kimono and hakama, often carrying a wooden sword by his side. One of Lupin V’s partners.

“Is your father doing well lately, Goemon-kun?”, asks the old man while rummaging his pantry for something.

The visitor is Jūyondaime Goemon, a current outlaw, who is somehow acquainted with her father, a former inspector.

“Thank you for your concern, Zenigata no jiisan. My father is still melancholic once in a while and he would lock himself in the praying chamber on occasions, yet overall he is healthy and well”, the young samurai replies with a thankful bow.

“Goemon! Why are you here?!”, Toshiko exclaims in half-confusion and half-surprise, furiously storming out of the kitchen. “I mean, how can you just come in here, _like that_? You’re a wanted man!”

Her father peeks out from the pantry and shushes her with a finger on his lips. “The boy will leave soon, he just comes here for something”, the old man returns to rummaging on his sizeable collection of preserves, trying to find the correct goods.

“Your pickles are exquisite, ojiisan, but my father said it could use some rice vinegar instead of malt vinegar, and one or two more cloves of garlic in the brine”, Jūyondaime comments, then turns over to Toshiko for a greeting bow. “He knows you are on holidays, madam, so he won’t be heisting anything until you come back”, says the young samurai politely.

“Decent like his grandfather, good. I hope I didn’t put my trust in the wrong person”, Toshiko nods and turns back to resume whatever she was doing, not forgetting to leave a farewell. “Tell the little rat he’s quite a headache to deal with, and try to be less of an amateur.”

“Here they are!”, the old man grins and cheerily pulls out an armful of pickles and preserves jars. Yuzu marmalade, pickled bamboo shoots, pickled ginger, and of course, pickled lupine beans. The old man makes sure to always reserve one jar each for the Ishikawa, after he’s given the rest to the families in the neighbourhood. For some reasons, this old man is very attached to his little lupine field, to the point of being overprotective. He always keeps a close watch on it even at night, never allows strangers to stray in and never allows the kids to play near it. Such a mundane plant appears to be extremely important to the old man, yet no-one can actually understand why.

“Share some to that Lupin Gosei boy, and the other partner of yours. Also, bring me some of your father’s famous ham omelette when you visit next time.”

The old man carefully wraps all the jars into the cloth Jūyondaime brought along, padded with some dried straw so they won’t break on his way back.

That evening, after dinner was done, the old man tidies up a room in the cottage, which he says was reserved for whenever she would take a break from work and return here to visit him. The only bedroom in the whole house. His futon and pillow are laid in the living room, by the window overlooking the lupine field, so he can have a close watch on his treasured plants. Observing the obsession her old father has to those simple flowers, she reckons she knew the explanation.

“You haven’t gone to bed yet, Toshiko?”

Under the flickering light of the old bulb above his so-called bed, the old man was perusing some yellowed papers when he hears the footsteps of his daughter walking out.

“I’m more used to the night, Otousan. That little rat prefers to do his heists at nighttime”, replies Toshiko with a soft smile, “Ne, Otousan, perchance... were you keeping this field of flowers... for him?”

“For whom?”

“The man whom you made your purpose in life to arrest.”

“I am retired, my dear Toshiko, and he’s more likely than not no longer with the living; if he is confirmed to be alive, I‘ll be more than glad to defy the retirement order and return to the force and resume my chase. However... I have yet to hear anything that isn’t mentions of his death, and died along with him was my purpose in life _as an ICPO inspector._ For the time being, I am able to feed the kids around here, I am able to spend time with you and the others whom I hold dear, these little pleasures would be enough for me...”

His eyes dart back to the papers as he’s speaking. Toshiko recognises them as the newspaper articles about that incident. No matter what he says, she knows her father is still holding the memories of his arch-rival; his heart refuses to believe Lupin III’s death was true, and he longs for the day he could put on his old hat (which Toshiko is now inheriting), slip into his old inspectorial suit and tie to chase after the elusive silhouette of the thief he has sacrificed his youth and his family to arrest (yet never accomplished).

“Say, Toshiko...”, muses the old man, “Could you... call me _Tottsan_ , sometimes?”

“Eh? I thought you disliked me accidentally calling you as such?”

“Just humour this old man, once in a while is enough, my dear.”

With all the frankness, Toshiko really cannot bring her heart to hate him anymore. Perhaps, her late mother feels it too. Now, her father is just an old peasant tending his field of lupine, with scarce a shadow of these dystopian days ever passing by his life. He doesn’t read the current news, he doesn’t have a radio, he spends every next morning like the last - weeding, watering, fertilising, guarding the field day and night.

She really cannot hate him anymore. Her miserable old father, he has seen and suffered enough miseries in his long life. Toshiko turns over to return to her bed, her dry lips part a tender smile behind his back, whispering: “Goodnight... _Tottsan_...”

Once Toshiko has passed beyond the sliding door, the old man also turns off the light, sets aside the papers and slides back down his futon. He hasn’t slept yet, just lying there staring upon the starry sky above inching slowly by.

“Say... which of these stars are you two now? Jigen...? ...Lupin...?”, the old inspector-turned-peasant whispers to himself.

The next dawn, the old man has somehow finished his weeding work even before Toshiko is awake, and was preparing breakfast— raw eggs and soy sauce on leftover rice— when she finishes her morning routine. He says oftentimes he couldn’t sleep much, so on those days he would be up and get the job done earlier. During breakfast, he suggests something unexpected to her: “Ne, Toshiko, would you want a trip to Shizuoka with your father today? The snow seems to have thawed, and we can go on a hike, sightseeing nature from above.”

The old man who, for decades, always refuses to leave his cottage and the lupine field, now asks his daughter to go to Shizuoka with him, two hours from here at the fastest.

“But, how about your field, Otousan? It’s so important to you, should you not leave it unattended?”

“Spending a holiday with my daughter is more important. I couldn’t spend time with you much when you were younger, I reckon I should compensate...”, the old man just sheepishly smiles, absentmindedly poking the egg yolks in his bowl.

Decades of retirement seem to have changed his person. Aside from his occasional reminiscences, he is now nothing like the overly diligent and dedicated police inspector he used to be many years prior, just an ordinary old peasant in an obscure rural corner of Saitama, spending his days tending his little lupine field and waiting for his faraway daughter— the last family he has— to visit during her holidays. For his daughter, he is now willing to forsake a day of work so he can bring her to Shizuoka, her mother’s birthplace and the prefecture with the scarce natural wonders still somehow remaining as they were years ago, a bubble of the bright good time amidst these dark dystopian days.


	2. The Old Man and a Chance Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series and world-building concept belong to Raspberry Milkshake.  
> Painstakingly crafted everything else in by yours truly.

They arrive at Shizuoka that noon by train, which is no longer as punctual as it used to be back in the days. Outside the train’s windows, the mountain still stands majestically as it always has for the past dozens of millennia, yet the scenic cities and neighbourhood around it have been transformed into private resorts for the ruling class. The commoners have been pushed further into the forests at the base of the mountain, giving their old lands for the rich to build their holiday mansions, and as time goes by have been thriving in their newly established villages, living the simpler way of life like their ancestors used to live.

The old man tries his best to help his daughter navigate the streets in the villages, to various degrees of success, and happens to get them both stuck in a crowded market.

All of a sudden, a robber zips through the crowd and swipes a fair amount of money from the old merchants, yet the old man is standing in his escape route. A village police officer was chasing behind him, trying to get through the tight woven crowd of people to catch him, yelling the robber to stop all the while. The robber, with all boldness he can muster, draws a small knife to threaten the old man and force him to give way. Toshiko instinctively steps up, but her father puts an arm in front of her, as though he wants to handle this himself. She is worrying, have the decades spent tending the lupine field dulled his martial arts skills?

The old man shouts for the crowd to stay back, and as the robber approaches with his knife, he swiftly dodges the thrust and floors the criminal with an impeccable Judo throw.

“What are you thinking? Robbing these poor people of their meagre coins! Are the commoners not miserable enough for you?”

At this time, the policeman has successfully caught up to the robber and promptly arrests him. After the robber has been safely escorted to the police station, the policeman runs back to find the father-daughter duo in the crowded market for a little appreciation for their help.

“It was an impeccable move, sir. Our deepest thanks to you for helping us catch that robber”, says the policeman with a grateful bow.

“It’s nothing. I’ve caught many much worse criminals before that rascal was even born”, the old man bashfully replies.

“Eh, you do speak like someone I’d a chance to work with a long time ago, sir...”

The policeman leads the two of them to his guarding booth just outside the market for some tea as thanks.

“You are not around here, are you? The villagers all know each other, yet I can’t recognise any of you. Wait, I actually do know the lady here...”, the policeman suddenly halts his pour as the thoughts invade his mind, “The lady inspector in charge of the newly arisen Lupin V case, Zenigata Toshiko, daughter of Inspector Zenigata Koichi, isn’t it?”

“We are not actually acquainted, are we? I too do not recall seeing you before...”, Toshiko comments on this peculiar remark.

“Ah, no, ma’am, it’s just that I used to work under Inspector Zenigata Koichi many years ago. Your name brings back many memories.”

Toshiko turns to her father, whose face is until now obscured under the straw hat he always wears (since his treasure the inspectorial fedora has been bequeathed to his daughter). “Are you perchance acquainted with this man back then, Otousan?”, she asks.

The old man grabs the cup of tea and lifts the rim of his straw hat up to take a sip, and also to have a good look at this policeman whom he can’t remember if he ever had worked with or not.

“Wait, it can’t be...”

The policeman is wide-eyed, his chin on the table, staring attentively at the old man. A few awkward moments later, a tiny drop of tear can be seen treading down the corner of his eye. In the meanwhile the old man is discreetly biting his lips; he can recognise this zealous expression everywhere. No matter the past or the present. No matter when he was still his assistant, or when he has retreated to a small village to serve as its policeman.

“Stop looking at me like that... Yata.”

The aged policeman clumsily wipes his tears and quickly stands upright to salute the Zenigata. “Yatagarasu Goro, at your service!”

“What service, Yata? Don’t you see I’m a peasant now?”, says the old man, teasingly pointing to his straw hat. “I’ve been retired, I haven’t even touched a piece of news for decades, I’m taking my daughter here to hike the mountain, and that is my only concern.”

“But... didn’t you just... take down a robber?”, says the policeman, quite addled.

“I don’t know. Old habits die hard, I think?”, the old man muses, a finger scratching his hard chin. “I forget I’m now just an old peasant sometimes...”

“I’ve been wondering where you might be gone after you left the force, how wrinkly you might be if I had a chance to stumble upon you again somedays. But, it seems like my worries have been for naught, then...”, says the policeman as he prepares the humble sweets to accompany the tea. “You’re still exactly the same as the day I saw you walk out of your office and never returned. Literally, sir.”

“Yata-san resigned from the force a few days after you retired, Otousan”, Toshiko adds.

“Never mind, I reckon he’s more happy here as a village policeman rather than servant to those pea-brained aristocrats”, the old man grabs his cup of tea tightly and chugs it as though a glass of beer. “Anyway, I settled down in Saitama. If you want, just pay me a visit once in a while. Ask around for the old man with the lupine field.”

“I’ll introduce my wife to you when I have a chance to visit, if you don’t mind”, smiles the policeman, gesturing to the rather old family photo on his working desk behind him. The photo’s corners have darkened, and the paper itself has turned to a musty yellow shade. It depicts the policeman himself in his youth, along with his bride and newborn child in her arms. “I would have loved to introduce my child to the man I’ve been holding utmost respect to, had he been... still alive.”

Toshiko glances out of the window to the majestic mountain, which has turned to a pleasant summery blue shade behind the clouds. She quickly finishes her share of tea and sweets and neatly puts the teacup on the sweets plate. The old man takes it as his daughter signalling him it is time to leave.

“Yata, would you mind if we asked you to help us get through this... maze and get to the mountain?”, inquires the old man, gesturing towards the clouded summit.

“Getting through the villages is easy, sir, the hard part is getting to the mountain. There are the Governor’s guards everywhere and they don’t allow commoners to hike anymore”, says the policeman as he’s cleaning up the plates and teapot. “The Governor claims the mountain as her private land now, and she said on the news the other month she intended to build a summer mansion up there.”

“Wait, what? What kind of tyranny is  _ that _ ? How can anyone just claim the pride of Japan as their own!”, the old man angrily slams down the table as he hears such news yet quickly falters as he remembers who he currently is, “Eh, as if a peasant like me can say that...”

“You can stay with my family, and we can sightsee the flower fields by Lake Hamanako, sir and ma’am”, the policeman offers.

“You know what, Yata, we could do that. But...”, the old man briefly pauses and takes a quick glance at Toshiko whose eyes are fixating upon the mountain summit, “...What use is a father who can’t keep a simple promise to his daughter?”

“The world is no longer what you and I remember, senp— Zenigata-san. We are now just the specks of dust in the ruling class’s house, and if the ruling class says the mountain is now theirs, it  _ is _ now theirs.” The policeman falters, reminiscing of the good old days. “But I won’t stop your ever indomitable soul, Zenigata-san, I’ll show you the way. Maybe there’s some obscure trail they don’t even bother to guard...”

With a longtime local acquaintance leading the way, the Zenigata easily escapes that one maze of a village and reaches the base of the mountain rather soon. The old man cannot stop his gasping, looking upwards so high he almost falls backwards. This is the first time he can fathom how majestic this mountain is, three kilometres high, with a summit piercing the clouds. If his wife had not met such an untimely end, he would definitely bring her here for their anniversary.

“These politicians, how degenerate can they be? They have taken people’s ancestral lands, and now they even claim the national pride of Japan as their back garden?”, comments Toshiko to the policeman, “I rarely pay attention to these political tumbleweeds, but, who is this Shizuoka Governor like?”

“Well, very few people actually saw her, I’m not one of them, so I can’t say anything. I just know that the Governor is called  _ Daishiōkami _ . Untouchable like the other oligarchs, I presume.”

After his eyes are done with the scenic candy, the old man secures his scarf and coat so the mountainous winds won’t blow them off, and boldly takes his first steps onto the mountain slope. “Come, Toshiko, let your father show you the beautiful sunset from up there.”

Toshiko waves a goodbye to the policeman before following her father up on the hike. Apparently no matter how long he has spent idle in his lupine field, his spirit is still of an unconquerable inspector, with a determination like tempered steel. He may follow the unjust orders, but he never obeys them.

On the way up, the Zenigata have to veer away from the trail quite a few times due to the presence of patrolling guards, and they reach the summit just as the dusk falls. The feeling is exhilarating. Toshiko glances under her feet, and finds herself standing above the clouds, and at the horizons afar, the bright sun slowly settles down the misty blanket, dyeing the sky a marvellous shade of red.

The old man sits down a rock by the  _ torii _ just below the summit and gazes forlornly towards the sunset. In his younger days he has flown all over the world, frequently on higher altitudes than this, yet somehow, he has a sensation that the ascent today is a great accomplishment. Greatest accomplishment he has had in decades. And... in front of this ethereal scenery, he feels closer to the heavens than he ever has been.

All of a sudden these natural marvels become misty in his eyes. Tears blurry his sight. He feels a light touch on his cheek, reminiscent of the tender touch of his wife, yet no-one is around; it’s just the mountainous winds caressing his hardened visage. As the last sliver of sun creeps under the horizons, the breezes become quite chillier, and amidst the whooshing noises, the old man thinks he hears the voice of a certain thief, chirping the usual flippant farewell whenever the latter was about to escape from his grips.


	3. The Old Man’s Midsummer Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series and world-building concept belong to Raspberry Milkshake.  
> Painstakingly crafted everything else in by yours truly.

“You two! What are you doing here!”

The Zenigata are startled when a squad of guards has already surrounded the summit, rifles fixating on them. Toshiko attempts to verify her identity with her inspectorial badge, but remembers she is on holidays and decides not to. They are ordered to follow the squad down, but the escort halts at a mountain cottage, built on the ruins of the old mountain huts. The alpine residence of the Governor, as it appears.

They are urged to enter the cottage, and the guards separate Toshiko from her father. He doesn’t know where they lead her to, but he himself is escorted to a stateroom, where a familiar woman is lounging on a simple yet comfortable sofa.

“Hasn’t the Governor dictated that commoners were not allowed to stray onto this mountain?”, said woman greets him with a casual tone, “You haven’t changed a bit after all those years, _Inspector_.”

“ _Mine Fujiko_! What is your scheme this time!”, the old man exclaims to his adversary out of habits, then falters as he recalls he’s now just an old peasant.

“Calm down, Inspector Zenigata. I am just a guest here, like you are”, smiles the woman called Mine Fujiko. “But I must ask, what are you doing on my mountain?”

“Which mountain is yours! This is the national pride!”

“It bears _my_ name.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t...”

Shortly after, another woman in formal suit barges in with a pile of papers and bumps into the old man as she rushes by the door, spilling the documents everywhere.

“You made your honourable guest wait a little too long there, _Daishiōkami-_ dono”, Fujiko playfully chides the woman as she was hurriedly picking up the files.

The woman glances back to the old man, who is just standing by the door, rather addled about what on earth just happened, quickly settles the papers down onto her working desk and returns back to the former inspector, offering her hand. “Daishiōkami, Governor of Shizuoka. Honoured to meet the famous Inspector Zenigata.”

Although still quite confused, he accepts her hand and is led to an armchair opposite to where Fujiko is sitting.

“Wa-Wait, Daishiōkami-dono, where are your guards escorting my daughter to?”, the old man stands up briefly from his seat in worry.

“Please do not fret, Zenigata-san, they are just showing her the guest room. Even though it’s summer, the night can be too chilly to descend”, the Governor tenderly says, offering him a warm cup of coffee she just made.

“Now, Daishiōkami-dono, is it the time you report to me the results of your part in the investigation as well as your political status?”, Fujiko demands, “Also, I reckon our guest here would like to hear some too.”

“Y-Yes!” The Governor sits down in her desk, briefly fumbles through the documents before finally regains her usual composure, and begins the reports.

The section has successfully traced out one of the suspects believed to be responsible in the conspiracy against the former Governor of Shizuoka roughly twenty years ago, which led to his resignation and subsequent fatal illness. A large amount of implicit deals concerning the natural resources in Shizuoka Prefecture is believed to be the force behind the conspiracy. Said suspect has connections to many government officials in the region and seems to be conspiring with them again as the election season for the Shizuoka governor position draws near. Additionally, a sizeable majority of voters in the prefecture is still in support of Governor Daishiōkami, thus indicating a rather secure and successful election which may need little precautions to avoid foul play from a certain group.

“Thus concludes my reports, Spymaster”, the Governor duly says.

“Spymaster?”, the old man darts his eyes back and forth between the two women in confusion. “ _Her_? This Mine Fujiko?”

“I say, even when you are retired, a morning newspaper everyday doesn’t hurt. Right, Inspector?”, comments Fujiko teasingly, gesturing to the rather inconspicuous emblem of the Résistance Internationale as a decoration on the Governor’s desk. “Shizuoka is my domain, and the Governor of Shizuoka here is one of my agents. Say, Inspector, how is the sunset like seen on the summit of my mountain?”

“This mountain isn’t yours, Mine Fujiko!”, the old man falters as quick as he fires up, “But... the scene was exquisite, I’ll admit...”

“ _Fufu~_ ”, she chuckles. “Now that you’ve become a guest here, don’t you want to know a piece of what happened in _that incident_ , Inspector?”

His ears perk up at the mention of his deepest curiosity. He slams his hands on the table so hard his coffee spills out a little, his whole body jolts up, his eyes fiercely anticipate each and every word that the lips of the woman named Mine Fujiko are about to speak.

She opens her purse and takes out an old leather-bound pocketbook whose pages are filled with names. One of those has already been crossed out.

“For the oligarchs to rise up to the magnitude of powers they are possessing today, they had to get rid of a certain man and his gang. The man who could dig out and expose their deepest and darkest secrets in a mere flick of his hand. He was their greatest obstacle and nemesis. In order for them to expand their influences and perpetuate their powers, he must not exist. As long as Lupin the Third was alive, their ambitions could never be realised. So, they conspired with each other and created an impeccable trap just for him. Thus their glorious era was born, at the cost of his and one of his partners’ lives...”, Fujiko details the story solemnly, her fingers fiddling through the pages. “Here are their names, fruition of decades the Résistance Internationale has spent to trace down. However, the list is not perfect. These are merely suspects. However, as soon as we are able to confirm one of these scoundrels used to be a member of that accursed council... we duly let him have a taste of our vengeance. Vengeance that has been simmering for decades...”

The Governor slumps down to her desk, appears to be on the verge of tears. Her hands clench so tightly that the blue veins seem to emerge.

“Of course, while vengeance fuels the operation of this organisation, everyone has their own loved ones to avenge. We walk the same direction, with different paths, yet the same destination: the fall of the oligarchy ruling this country as well as the world. We are avenging for our _past_ , our _present_ and our _future_...”

Fujiko gently folds the fragile pocketbook and tucks it back into her purse, then glances over to the distressed Governor.

“Daishiōkami-dono...”, the old man stands up and approaches the Governor’s desk out of concern. He happens to land his eyes upon her name plaque, and realises how peculiar it is written.

“How long must I wait... till justice is finally served? Tell me... Okaasan... when will those scoundrels pay for their deeds? Why are we branded the criminals and they hailed heroes, when _their_ crimes are much more worse than ours?” The Governor’s voice trembles in vengeful fury.

“Someday”, Fujiko bluntly replies.

The old man just stands there, staring at the Governor’s name plaque for a good while. Something strikes his mind about these peculiar characters. “If I may be so bold, Daishiōkami-dono, perchance... Lupin the Third is related to you?”

“Oh?”, utters Fujiko in amusement, “Inspector, why would you think our esteemed Governor here is related to the man who used to be known as the most wanted criminal in the world?”

“Simply, because of how her name is written”, says the old man with utmost certainty. “These characters (第四狼) mean ‘the fourth wolf’. Who is this ‘wolf’ indicates? The Lupin family. Daishiōkami can be taken to mean the ‘fourth Lupin’.”

“Can you be such certain, Inspector? That our esteemed Governor is a Lupin?”, Fujiko smirks at his deduction.

“I can be old, but I’m not senile yet!”, claims the old man, defending his inspectorial intuitions. “This is a peculiar spelling of a name, to say the least and an inconspicuous alias to hide the true one, at the most! There is only one family with ‘wolf’ in their name in the entire Japan, and it is the Lupin family!”

“Apparently the Inspector Zenigata wasn’t respected all over for no reason”, Fujiko smiles. The old man’s spirit really hasn’t changed a bit since he retired, his inspectorial skills are still sharp and his determination is still that of tempered steel. “It is a shame such a person has to retire, wasting his talents in the countryside...”

“Spymaster, may I have a few words in private with the Zenigata? I would like to request something to them...” The Governor pleas to Fujiko, who seems a little too eager than usual to grant her permission. The Spymaster grabs her outercoat and promptly departs to the patio so her subordinate can have some privacy for the matter the latter is about to discuss with the retired inspector.

Governor Daishiōkami knocks on the door a few times, and after a short moment one of the guards escorts his daughter to the stateroom. She offers the younger inspector a hand as well as a brief introduction as greetings, then drops to a grateful bow once the latter accepts it, prompting a perplexed look from the Zenigata. “Thank you, Toshiko-san... Thank you.”

“Eh, I am thanked... for what?”, says Toshiko, hiding her escalating befuddlement behind a polite smile.

“Thank you, Inspectors Zenigata. I thank you for everything. And I am sorry... for everything”. The Governor replies in her utmost sincerity, then leads her guests to the sofa and serves them coffee— a different blend than what she served the old man prior. Sitting across them on the armchair, an enclosed envelope marked “Mementoes” on her lap, she starts opening it right in front of the two witnesses.

“First and foremost, I would like to affirm to you that Shizuoka is the domain of the Résistance Internationale, most the denizens around are supporters of the RI and the edicts I have passed in my governing authority have been in the interests of the people as well as of the organisation. However, even as Governor I cannot alone stand against the oligarchy as a whole; but, what I _can_ do, is to migrate the RI supporters closer to the headquarters of the operation, which is this mountain, all under the ruse of claiming eminent domain. Protection of the people and return them their well-deserved golden past, it is the Spymaster’s will and also the creed of the Résistance Internationale.” The Governor halts for a second to dispel her guests’ bad impression of her, now they have known which liege she follows. “Secondly, you were right, Zenigata-san, I am a Lupin. Arsenia Lupin, daughter to the legendary thief Arsène Lupin III and also the fourth generation to said name.” 

The paper knife’s blade runs smoothly through the seal on the thick envelope, and the Governor reverently lays the memorabilia out onto the coffee table. A set of silver tie clips; a couple of cards pre-drawn with Lupin’s favourite mark, that flippant scribble he liked to tease the police with; a pair of custom-made wedding rings; a silk tie in one of Jigen’s favourite colours, and a pair of stained handcuffs.

“This... is yours, Zenigata-san.” Arsenia, also the Governor, tenderly wraps the handcuffs in a piece of paper serviette and passes them towards the old man. These are indeed his, probably one of the pairs which Lupin brought along in his escape during one of the times the old man, then inspector, managed to handcuff that sly burglar.

“Okaa— The Spymaster had retrieved these in the hideout where they had stayed before they departed for that fateful heist. She told me to ‘return Tottsan his handcuffs’, if I would be able to stumble upon him somedays.”

The old man just absentmindedly stares at the handcuffs, trying to prevent tears from pouring out the corners of his eyes. The stains on the handcuffs... are salt stains. These, he can tell with great certainty, were the handcuffs he had buried Lupin with, during that one time the thief apparently had been fatally shot by an assassin and fell into the sea. The salt on his cold skins mixed with the salt from the inspector’s mourning tears and remained as stains on the handcuffs’ steel.

“That bastard. That bastard never stayed dead whenever I heard he was killed, until...”, the old man angrily slams his fist onto the coffee table, his voice trembling. “Why, Lupin? Why must you bastard do that to me? You said you would retire _at the same time_ with me, no sooner and no later! I... was looking forward to being able to treat you to a glass of rye, Lupin...”

He abruptly stands up and escapes to the patio before any tears are shed in front of the daughters. Fujiko is still there, on her wicker chair by the balustrade. The minty scent of her favourite cigarette permeates into the chilly air of the mountain at night. The old man pulls his scarf up to keep the warmth in, and rummages his pockets for some cigarettes. “Can I have a light?”, he looks towards the Spymaster, who has already had her lighter lit for him.

In the meanwhile, inside the stateroom Arsenia has had one of the silver tie clips and the silk tie wrapped in a box and handed the parcel to Toshiko, once again with a thank-you. “I am glad you were the one in charge of my son’s case, Toshiko-san, just like I am glad Zenigata-san was the one in charge of my father’s heists. Would you mind if I asked you a favour, Toshiko-san? Next time you encounter the children, please hand them these souvenirs of their grandfathers; this tie clip to Lupin V, and this silk tie to the girl. And... should you have a chance, tell the boy... his mother wishes him the best, even though she could never see him...”

Toshiko nods, accepting the parcel and promising she would duly hand them the souvenirs, yet with a condition that she’s allowed to not hold back and arrest him first, once in a good while, because the supervising superiors are suspecting she’s colluding with the criminals.

Arsenia just replies with a smile, as though they thought of the same thing. “Don’t worry, Toshiko-san. The boy isn’t a match for you, he is not his grandfather”, comments she, in a motherly playful tone.

Back in the patio, the atmosphere is horrendously silent. The old man, with a Shinsei cigarette clenched tight between his teeth, keeps fixating his eyes onto the starry night sky, far more stars than seen from his cottage’s windows. He is constantly nattering and spouting nonsensical lamentations so he won’t bawl out crudely, while Fujiko just gracefully rests her head on the balustrade and glances upwards to some distant, dim stars.

The night grows colder, and the sky shines brighter, not a speck of cloud impedes their lights from twinkling down the two persons.

“Lupin was a thief, yet an honourable man. He always kept his promises, until that incident. He broke two promises in one day, to the only woman he ever loved and to the only man he ever respected as his adversary...”, muses Fujiko towards the high heavens.

“Those two bastards probably would be laughing their heads off if they saw me this pathetic. Once a diligent police inspector, now just an old peasant who couldn’t bear picking up a piece of newspaper to save his life...” The old man says, his teeth grinding lightly on the cigarette filter. Once in a while his tired eyes return to gaze upon the myriad of celestial lights, murmuring balderdashes to himself.

“Say... which of these stars are you two now? Lupin...? Jigen?”, the old man whispers to the heavens once again, repeating his eternal wonder.

All of a sudden, Fujiko raises her cigarette up like an incense, pointing towards a point in the sky, as though hearing his meaningless mutters. The trail of smoke leads the old inspector to a pair of bright stars in a rather lonely patch of the night sky.

“Can’t you see, Inspector? Lupin is there, the second star to the right. And Jigen is to our left, his right, still the loyal right-hand man”, says she with a tranquil and ever gentle smile.

That night, the old man returns to his guest room, which is situated next door to his daughter’s and remains by the balcony till the break of dawn. His mind is swirling with thoughts. He cannot sleep, with all these resurrected lamentations and newfound joys swimming in his head. At around two hours past midnight, when the grand clock in his room chimes twice, Fujiko is seen also emerging out on the balcony in her nightgown and two glasses of rye on her hands. Her room happens to be next to his, on the opposite side of his daughter’s.

“What were you dreaming, Inspector?”, Fujiko says in her usual teasing tone, swirling the liquor in her glass musingly.

“Nothing. Couldn’t sleep a lick.” The old man replies, thinking she’s just teasing him as usual, but changes his voice once he notices her hand reaching over to offer him a glass of rye.

“No-one doesn’t have a dream, Inspector. And needless one has to sleep, to dream.”

The old man is briefly frozen as his brain is trying to process that cryptic quote of hers, but seeing the aromatic amber sloshing in the glass on her hand, he believes he knows what she meant. He reaches out to accept his glass of rye, mumbling a thank and takes a sip.

“What was I dreaming, eh? Well...”, sighs the old man, “The same ancient dream I’ve been dreaming. The five of us— I, you, Lupin, Jigen, Goemon— sightseeing the twinkling city from a skyscraper’s high bar, in a midsummer night. Jigen shares a smoke with Goemon, while I and Lupin share a glass of bourbon you made. He whispers sweet nothings to you again, while I tipsily laugh and pat his shoulders, encouraging him to take good care of the lady or I’ll make him pay like a gentleman... Alas... it’s still just a mere dream, and I still wake up every passing morning with a knowledge that it could never be realised... Ever.”

“If you look into it a little closer, Inspector...”, says Fujiko with a tender smile, raising her glass of rye towards the sky, to the twinkling second star to the right. “...You will realise it is not entirely a pipe dream.”

The old inspector’s glance follows the direction of Fujiko’s hand, and through the aromatic amber sloshing in his glass veiling the same view she may have, he reckons he understands her. “Are you always this cryptically connotative, Fujiko?”, he wonders.

“No, not always, but certainly more frequent recently, ever since that incident...” She replies, bring the glass back to her rosy lips for another sip.

“You’re right. I... can see it. So vividly, my dream...” Suddenly the old man’s eyes are blurry. He initially thinks the sloshing rye has distorted the images of the faraway stars, but no. He is crying, somehow. No sorrows nor pain, just hot tears drenching and tricking down the corners of his eyes. He has finally realised it, what is truly his midsummer night dream; a dream that is not really a dream.

Ceremoniously, he stands up and leans on the balustrade, raising his glass of rye high towards the twinkling second star to the right, which he believes is what has become of his eternal rival.

“Cheers, Lupin. Whether you’re alive, which is not very likely, or have long since become a star in the sky.”

Following the old inspector’s example, Fujiko also tips her glass towards the smaller star to the left, in a rather reverent manner. “Another to you, my beloved Lupin. And you also, Jigen Daisuke. Cheers.” She whispers to herself before gulping the entire glass and promptly returning to her bedroom, while the old man remains by the balcony and keeps stargazing till dawn, occasionally retreating back to his room for some warmth.

He has not forgotten to retrieve the stained handcuffs from the Governor’s stateroom, after many years has finally been in his possession once again. He wraps the pair neatly with the serviette and tucks the little memento back into the inner pocket of his old coat, where it used to belong. Perchance he may return to his criminal-catching past self somedays, even though he can never be the reverent inspector he used to be back in the past, he can still, at least, help defend the defenceless around him, like what Yata has been doing. The children in his neighbourhood, the frail elders, the poor fathers and mothers who survive in despair during these dystopian days. And with this pair of handcuffs safely back in his coat, the old man thinks he also ought to keep a small piece of memory of Lupin a little closer to his heart, too. He will be avenging the untimely ends of his sworn rival and the latter’s partner, but in his own way.

“Just you watch, Lupin, if I cannot arrest you in this life, I’m bringing down criminals far worse than you would ever become. Don’t you underestimate this old peasant, Lupin...”


End file.
